Loved
by Chockfullo'nuts
Summary: House and Chase in a relationship, sequel to "Lovesick". No smut. Don't know where I'm going yet - prompts welcome!
1. Chapter 1

On a grey Monday morning at five a.m., Robert Chase woke up to the sound of rain against the window panes. Not his own window panes, though – he was

lying in his employer's bed. Who groaned softly mumbling; "'S too early." Chase smiled.

"I know." he whispered, snuggling down again.

* * *

Two hours later, he was woken again. This time, a blaring alarm had interrupted his sleep. The intensivist rubbed his eyes tiredly. "House."

"Mm."

"We need to get up..."

"Sh..."

Shaking his head, Chase went to take a shower. He returned a little while later, wrapped in House's bathrobe. Getting dressed, he continued his attempts to

wake his boss.

"Come on...we'll be late." House scoffed. He wasn't half-asleep anymore, but far away from actually getting up.

"_You'll_ be late. And since you're dating the boss, you're allowed to."

The younger man rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks." he said sarcastically, "But technically, your shift starts at eight as well."

"Shush now."

Slowly, Chase could feel himself getting annoyed. That in itself wasn't new, House made him furious about a dozen times in an ordinary day. What had changed

was how little effort he put into trying to hide his anger.

"House, get up. You promised you'd leave early. That's why I left the car at my place – remember?"

"Take the train."

"Are you serious?"

House sighed. "God, you're whiny." He sat up slowly, massaging his stiff leg. "Are you gonna at least make breakfast?"

"No way." But as House got dressed, he heard his duckling clattering around in the kitchen.

* * *

A quick meal later, both doctors were in the car.

"So you'll let me out at the back entrance? Then I'll pretend to arrive from the clinic."

"With your bag? And in your street-wear? Believable."

"I always take my bag downstairs with me when I arrive before everyone else. And I've got my lab coat with me...doofus." Chase had mumbled the last word,

still uncomfortable treating House as his equal.

"Don't think I owe you anything for that. Anyone can insult their boss under their breath."

In the conference room, Cameron and Foreman were sitting quietly, enjoying their usual morning routine. Before House arrived, the department was always

blessedly calm and the two doctors were savoring every moment. When their boss limped in suddenly, both his employees stared.

"What are you doing here this early?" Cameron enquired, checking her watch. It was just after eight.

"I was informed my shift starts at eight." the diagnostician replied. That had the added bonus of being true. "Where's Chase?"

"Uh...we haven't seen – " Foreman said, but Cameron interrupted, "He said he'd be a couple of minutes late, he's got...car trouble." House's lip curled in a grin.

"Right. Care to tell me the truth?"

At that moment, Chase walked in.

"What's going on?" he asked. Cameron glanced at him nervously, then back to House. The department head turned to his intensivist.

"Nothing. You're late."

"Um, yeah. Sorry. I wanted to get my clinic duty out of the way."

"Clinic, huh? No _car trouble_?"

Chase frowned, confused. Before he could respond, House turned to his female employee. He smiled sadistically.

"Cameron, clinic hours. Bye."

With a scowl, the immunologist got up. She grabbed her lab coat and House's name-tag, leaving the room in a huff. Chase stared after her.

"What was all that about?" he asked, but the department head had already vanished into his office. Foreman gave his colleague a long-suffering look.

"She tried to cover for you."

Chase grimaced. From the inner office, House called, "Foreman."

"Yeah?"

"How come my desk is covered in paper?"

"Oh, right...Cuddy. She says either you get it done by lunch, or – "

"Since when do_ I _do paperwork?"

"She said if we did it for you, she'd dock our pay."

"Yeah...that's illegal."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "I know. Doesn't mean whatever she _is_ gonna do will be pleasant."

"Oh shut up. Get in here and do your job."

"I'm not here to do your paper – "

"Yeah. On the other hand, you _are_ here to make my job easier. Get to work."

Chase and Foreman shared a look before reluctantly making their way to the diagnostician's office.

As soon as they had entered, House grabbed his ball and vanished. Wilson's office seemed like a more peaceful place to be.

* * *

Several minutes passed before Chase set aside his pile of papers. "I'll be back in a minute." he said, rising. Foreman looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Bathroom."

"No way."

"What?"

"No way. You wouldn't risk House's wrath for a bathroom break."

Chase rolled his eyes. Colleagues that knew you too well definitely had their drawbacks. He thought fast. "Fine. I'm meeting Janie." It was a good thing

Foreman was about as perceptive as your average building brick, because anyone a little more skilled at reading people would have seen right through the

Australian's lie. The neurologist just raised his eyebrows. "Wow. You really have grown a spine."

Chase shrugged. "Thanks. If House comes back – "

"He won't. Just go." Chase nodded quickly, not wanting to give the neurologist any chance to reconsider. With a wave, he left the room.

* * *

In Wilson's office, House was lying on his best friend's couch, lazily tossing his ball up and catching it again. He stopped when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Wilson said, looking up from his paperwork expectantly. Both doctors raised their eyebrows when Chase slipped in.

"What are you doing here?" House asked, before Chase could say anything.

"Looking for you. I thought you might be here." the Australian nodded at Dr. Wilson, "Hi!"

"So, you've found me."

"Yeah. Listen – I realise you love pawning off your clinic duty, but could you leave me out of it?"

"Cameron lied to me. Come on, we can't have that. Imagine if we all just ignored our moral compass!"

Wilson smirked. "Wow, you finally got her to lie? Thought that would never happen. How'd you do it?"

"Well, I had to torture an innocent wombat for three weeks...but it was worth it. Sorry, Chase."

The intensivist was stunned. "What, that – you wanted her to lie? That was another one of your games?"

"You bet."

Wilson jumped in, sensing an argument. "He's been waiting for Cameron to lie ever since she started her fellowship. Your...conflict just presented too good an

opportunity to miss."

Chase shook his head, deciding it was futile to try and understand his boss. "O...kay. But if you wanted her to lie, why'd you make her do your clinic duty?"

House rolled his eyebrows impatiently. "I thought you were smart." His friend grinned and explained,

"He wants her to lie in general, but he won't tolerate her lying to _him_."

"Sounds complicated."

"If you wanted simple, you picked the wrong boss."

House glared. "Hey! I'm still in the room. Quit the trash talk. And Chase, go do your job."


	2. Chapter 2

_Guest, espogio and Rei – thanks! No Jebeth, he probably won't, but that's how we love him, isn't it? ;) verlan, feel better soon – and as you'll see, this chapter's for _

_you! :]_

* * *

At that command, Wilson looked decidedly shocked. He had expected House to at least mask his orders slightly, the way most employers did. House's fellows

never got fooled into being anything like equals, but now that he was involved with one of them...unlike the oncologist, though, Chase took his superior's

rudeness in stride.

"You mean _your_ job." he said, and even managed to look straight into the diagnostician's eyes. He did leave, though. After all, you had to choose your battles.

* * *

While the intensivist made his way back to the diagnostic department, House and his friend were discussing monster trucks –_ not_ Wilson's choice of topic, but

his favourite diagnostician adamantly refused to talk about Chase.

"I'm serious, it'll be awesome!" House beamed, while Wilson looked apprehensive.

"You're talking about an evening spent with some guys you met on the street, they're probably – "

"Those are my _friends_ you're talking about."

"Yeah. Well, how about spending the evening with all your new 'friends'? I'll be...somewhere else."

"You're mean today."

"And you're going soft. Chase must be rubbing off on you."

"Thought I told you to lay off that subject?"

"Well – if you hadn't noticed; I don't usually do whatever you say."

House glared and got up. "I'll go spend time with some people that do then." Wilson's grin was wiped off his face when a stack of papers was knocked on the

floor. And not exactly accidentally.

* * *

House made his way back to the department of diagnostic's in a huff. His mood wasn't lifted when he found his office was still occupied by his employees.

"You aren't done yet?" he asked, entering.

Foreman flashed him an annoyed scowl. "You were gone for less than half an hour." Chase didn't say anything, not trusting himself to play his role convincingly.

Shrugging, the diagnostician sat down in his Eames chair. "Well, looks like we're spending some quality time together. Someone get me coffee." Chase and

Foreman were watching him with twin looks of annoyed disbelief, until Chase got up with a sigh, going to fetch his boss a cup of coffee. He had just sat down

again when House glanced at his employees over the top of his book. "Quit staring dumbly. And Chase, go buy me a lollipop."

That did it. Chase clenched his fists, hissing, "Bastard. You think you're so great, sitting there – " He stopped himself. Foreman and House both looked stunned,

but unlike his neurologist, House had soon gathered his bearings.

"_Excuse me_?!" he said, giving Chase a chance to backpedal. Which the Australian took.

"Sorry." he mumbled, leaving the room hastily. When he returned with the desired sweet shortly afterwards, he was also carrying a piece of birthday cake on a

colourful paper plate.

House raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Um...one of the nurses brought some cake in, to celebrate. I ran into her just now."

Tentatively, the intensivist held out the plate.

"Well, thank you so much, Dr. Chase." House smirked, pretty terrifyingly. He glanced at Foreman, wondering whether his performance had been convincing, and

noticed the neurologist looked...well, not exactly suspicious, but definitely puzzled. The diagnostician frowned for a split-second, unsure what to do next. Then,

he gestured at Foreman.

"Go do something." he said dismissively. The neurologist nodded, leaving quickly. He expected his colleague to get chewed out and was quite glad not to be

there for the show.

* * *

As soon as Foreman had left, Chase looked at his boss. "Sorry." he said, meaning it this time. House looked at him and shrugged. He got up and embraced his

worried wombat, letting the younger doctor snuggle against the soft cotton of his coat. "It's fine. Maybe I have to turn it down so you can keep your temper."

"Turn it down? What, your...antisocial way of interacting socially?"

"Yeah."

"Don't. The others would get freaked out. I'll just have to learn to only be myself when none of them are around. After all – " Chase smirked, "I'm used to rolling

over when you get intense."

House gave his Australian a soft peck on the cheek. "Maybe I should get intense right now." he muttered, before pulling away suddenly.

"What's up?" Chase asked, watching the diagnostician scrunch up his nose before exploding in a giant sneeze, "Aaaah...TISHOO!"

The intensivist had his hand on the other man's forehead immediately. "You don't seem to have a fever..." he mused, pulling up House eyelid, "And you – "

"Hey! Get off!" the diagnostician smacked Chase's hand away, leading the younger doctor to roll his eyes exasperatedly.

"I was just checking..." he said sullenly, keeping his hands to himself now.

"I'm f- " House began, continuing, "Ah-_tish_-oo." Gratefully, he took the tissue his employee was holding out. "Thanks."

"I'll go make you some tea." Chase said, vanishing into the conference room. House sighed.

"I hate tea!" he shouted.

* * *

Shortly after, House and Chase were watching TV together, the intensivist happily slurping sage tea. House hadn't touched his own mug, but Chase tried not

to mind. Though he had put honey in. And lemon.

"What are we gonna say if someone walks in now?" Chase asked, between sips. The two of them were lying on House's Eames chair together, covered by a

blanket Chase had found somewhere. Even without the diagnostician's known aversion to any kind of human contact, their position could be deemed

compromising.

"We'll tell them you were freaked out by Luke's cruelty and just needed some to 'hold you'." House replied, his voice convincingly whiny at the end of the

sentence. "They'd believe that." he added, in response to his underling's look.

"No they wouldn't."

"So we'll say the radiator broke down. Who cares. Different topic. You know how I'm sick and all?"

"I thought you were fine."

"No, I sneezed in the middle of that sentence, remember? Thus proving that I'm not. On the contrary, I'm feeling extremely weak."

"Maybe you should drink your tea."

"I hate tea."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Good God. What do you want?"

"My cake."

Sighing, the younger doctor got up, went to the desk and carried the paper plate back to his boss. He was glad he'd done that just a moment later, when

Cuddy stormed in.

"Why is Cameron doing your clinic hours – again?" she demanded, barely glancing at Chase.

"I'm sick." House answered, looking up at Cuddy like a forlorn puppy would.

"You don't look sick."

"I am. Right, Chase?"

The Australian nodded. "He is, Dr. Cuddy."

The administrator snorted. "Right. One of your lackeys agrees, so it must be true. Please. Chase speaking his mind when you're around? That would be a first."

Throwing a look at the fellow, Cuddy seemed slightly uncomfortable. "No offense."

"None taken..." Chase muttered.

"You, get to the clinic, _now_." Cuddy ordered, turning. Before House could utter another word, she was gone.

* * *

Left alone, the diagnostician shot his employee a reprehensive look.

"I was gonna eat my cake!" he whined, getting up reluctantly.

The Australian shook his head disbelievingly. "How the hell is this _my_ fault?"

"Well, normally, I'd just order you to do my hours."

"And now...you won't?"

"Can't. And that _is_ your fault."

"Well, _why_?"

"Because you're just too damn good-looking. Don't want you to get all mad. And...quit, or something."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Sure...you say that now - right after I told you I wouldn't make you to my clinic duty anymore."

Chase grinned. "That did help. Yeah."

"Shut up."

"Love you too."

Despite himself, House was smiling as he limped towards the detested clinic.


	3. Chapter 3

_Neglected this fic, I'm afraid :/ I'll try to do better from now on. You're right there, Rei! Though House probably isn't as convinced...Jebeth, thank you! :) Pallada, House _

_is much better, as you'll be relieved to find out. You're welcome, verlan! Espogio, thanks for those prompts, I like the idea of House and Chase going on a real date... _

_And assioma, the nightmare idea I liked, too. I'm writing all these down. :) akosiha, thanks for reviewing, you reminded me of this story! _

* * *

Several hours later, Chase returned to the department of diagnostic's to find his boss fast asleep.

"House?"

"Mmm."

"You don't look good."

"Leaveme'lone." Again, House could feel himself being prodded by his employee.

"Chase," he growled, "you touch me again, and I'll sue you for sexual harassment." His subordinate laughed.

"That would go down well." he said, grinning. He'd stepped away, though, so House had no reason to continue his threats. "I think I found a case." the

intensivist added.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"You don't look concerned enough. You may have found a case, but you also have an idea how to solve it. Probably won't be very challenging to me, then."

Chase, having heard a lot worse from his boss, wasn't shocked.

"Should I be offended?" he asked coolly.

"Probably." House smirked, then sneezed.

Right at that moment, Cameron and Foreman walked in.

"Do we have a case?" Cameron asked, seeing the file Chase was still holding.

"Yes." the intensivist said, while simultaneously, House replied,

"No." Foreman sighed.

"Come on, House."

"Can't." his boss mumbled. "'m sick." Chase rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. That's – " he stopped himself, grimacing. Reluctantly, House kicked into action.

"Yes, Dr. Chase? Feel free to say what's on your mind."

"Uh, nothing. Sorry."

"I thought so." House's tone was convincingly biting when he added, "I'm going home. I'd be letting you guys leave early, too...but you'd rather stay and work

up our new case, right?"

Getting up, House almost laughed at his subordinates' faces. Priceless. "Call me when he's dying. Call me _before that_, you'll regret it."

And with that, he limped away.

* * *

Later that night, House was watching cartoons when he heard his doorbell ring.

"Use your key!" he shouted, when it occurred to him that his visitor might be someone else than Wilson. Sighing, the diagnostician got up and made his way to

the door.

"It's you." he said, seeing his intensivist.

"Hi." Chase replied, stepping inside. "I'm not – disturbing anything, am I?"

"Well. Throwing a birthday party for my ficus tree. But apart from that, I'm free." The younger doctor shook his head.

"You sound better." he observed, setting a plastic bag on the counter, "Brought you soup."

"Took something." House explained, adding, "Chicken?"

"Yeah."

"How cliche."

"Sorry...d'you want it?"

"Sure."

House flopped back down on the couch while Chase busied himself in the kitchen. A short while later, the Australian carried a tray over to his employer.

"Tea." the diagnostician spat. "I _hate_ tea. Thought I told you that."

"You did. Like every little kid tells his parents he won't take his medicine. Drink up." House's eyes widened.

"Wow! How did that happen?"

"I'm learning. Where's my reward?" In reply, House set the mug to his lips and swallowed a tiny sip of tea, making a disgusted face.

"There you go." he said, when he had set his mug back down. Chase grinned.

"Thank you."

* * *

On the next day, House woke up alone. Chase had quickly given up on going in at the same time as his boss. If he blackmailed and/or lured him out of bed

before nine, he was responsible for inflicting a very tired House on his colleagues...and simply adopting the older doctor's timetable would make those very

same colleagues suspicious in a matter of days. So, Chase usually crept out of bed at around half past six, being careful not to wake his superior. He did leave

messages, though. Which House made fun of, but secretly liked. Today, the intensivist had written,

* * *

_"By the way – the case yesterday? My idea's been proven wrong. You might want to get ready quickly...I expect we'll be paging you pretty soon (sorry.) Also, I _

_bought iced tea. Lots of caffeine and sugar. Think you'll manage to stay hydrated with that? Try, at least. See you soon? Chase."_

* * *

As predicted, House's cell phone buzzed before he'd even had his shower.

"What?" he snapped, holding it to his ear. Chase answered.

"Patient's white count is up. And he's jaundiced, we think." The intensivist sounded timid, which led House to assume his entire team was listening.

"You _think_? Why the hell did I hire you?" His suspicion was confirmed when Cameron's voice said,

"You hired Chase because his dad made a phone call. Foreman's here 'cause of his rep sheet...and I'm pretty, apparently. We need you, House." Rolling his

eyes, the diagnostician relented.

"I'll be right in."

* * *

True to his word (for once), House arrived at his office just half an hour later. He tossed his backpack to Chase, handed Foreman his cane, and grabbed a

marker.

"So?" The ducklings jumped right into action.

"Back pain, hand tremors, rash and hair loss." Cameron reeled off, immediately followed by Foreman, who said,

"We've tested for sickle cell and he's had an MRI at Princeton General." His colleagues were oblivious, but Chase noticed the look on House's face.

"We've scheduled him for another one." the intensivist added quickly. Just in time, as the department head had already been planning to make the whole team

work weekends for a month.

"Glad to hear that." he growled now, adding, "Check his hepatic enzymes. And get a decent history. Because this is ridiculous."

"But – he won't say anything else." Cameron whined.

"Make him. Scare him. Take Chase."

"What?" Chase spluttered.

"Relax. I know you can't scare anyone. Play good cop, bad cop. And do it now."

With these words, House shooed his ducklings out. It was time for breakfast.

* * *

While his minions were busy actually doing their jobs, House spent a good part of the morning in Wilson's office. For once, there was no need to hide from

Cuddy – he had a case, after all – and Wilson was more than happy to abandon his files in exchange for more info about his friend's new relationship.

"So, how's it going with you guys?" he asked, munching on the sandwich House had stolen for him from...somewhere. He didn't want to know.

"Fine." House replied simply.

"You do know you'll screw it up somewhere down the line...?"

"Way to be supportive, Wilson." House scowled at his friend.

"Come on. You're not gonna tell me you're ready to change, are you?"

"Who says I need to change?"

"I do."

"Chase doesn't."

"Chase is in love. But if he has any self-respect, he'll get tired of being at your beck and call someday. And if he doesn't have any self-respect, _you'll_ get tired of

_him_...and pretty soon, too."

"Unless we find some kind of balance."

"That's likely. Seeing as you're both so very balanced and emotionally healthy."

"Pot. Kettle."

"Oh, shut up. Let's talk about you for once. How many times have you given me crap for trying to get along with my wives?"

"_Wives_. Plural. So, who's the expert?"

Frustrated, Wilson took a bite off his sandwich. Then, he looked up again.

"So, it's going fine?"

"Yup!"

"Great."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you, Rei. My life is pretty stressful right now, but I'm trying! Akosiha, thanks, he sure is :) Glad you like it, espogio. Pallada, yes, very possible ;) Thanks, verlan, _

_I haven't forgotten. And yeah, I like their home life too, so there will be more of that._

* * *

Though he wouldn't admit it to Wilson, House was not as unconcerned as he pretended. In truth, he'd been thinking about the exact same issue for quite a

while. Out of all his ducklings, Chase was the one who was least inclined to argue with his boss. House had always marveled at what the intensivist let him get

away with...during his time at PPTH, Chase had been mocked relentlessly almost every single day. House had frequently made him work longer hours or given

him scut work just to screw with him, and the kid took it all in stride. When the department head first discovered the seemingly bottomless well of good-

naturedness that his youngest employee presented, he had even started to make him do jobs entirely unrelated to his position. Chase had spent hours in his

employer's apartment, waiting to let in plumbers – or the postman, when House had ordered some new book again, but didn't feel like being home. The

Australian had assembled kitchen cabinets, checked on a febrile Wilson in the middle of the night and let his dinner get cold while rushing to the video store for

some DVD House decided he wanted._ Immediately_, of course. When the diagnostician spilled his coffee or knocked something over with his cane, his fellow

jumped into action straight away, knowing he'd be yelled at if he waited too long...and Chase had long since stopped counting the times he'd been sent for

chocolate, bagels or Vicodin.

* * *

And of course, all these favours weren't _favours_ in House's mind. He didn't _ask_ his intensivist to do any of these things – he simply _ordered _him to. The

department head was well aware of how this might lead to problems. So now, he was sitting in his office, dwelling on the issue – when suddenly, his thoughts

were interrupted.

"Hey!" Chase said brightly, entering.

House acknowledged him with a curt nod and right away, the intensivist guessed something had happened.

"What's up?" he asked worriedly, but the older doctor shook his head.

"Nothing." he motioned for Chase to come closer and pulled him in for a hug when – Cameron walked in. She froze in mid-step, and House let go of his

employee, sighing inwardly.

"What – " the intensivist started, when he noticed House was staring at the door. He turned around and, setting eyes on his colleague, grimaced. Then, he

turned to House for guidance. Cameron, meanwhile, was struggling to find words.

"I – sorry – I didn't mean to...intrude." She stood silently for a second, then seemed to make up her mind. "I'll come back." the immunologist stammered,

turning away. House, however, wasn't happy with that.

"Cameron!" he snapped.

"Yes?"

"Go wait in the conference room. And you say anything...to _anyone_ – you're fired."

* * *

As soon as Cameron had left, Chase and House looked at each other.

"Now what?" the intensivist asked. His boss shrugged.

"She likes her job."

"I hope so."

"Come on." House got up and joined Cameron in the adjoining room, followed by Chase. The immunologist was reading a magazine, but not actually reading it,

of course. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed flustered.

"Talk." House commanded, while Chase sat down gingerly. Cameron looked up.

"He – well, he opened up after Chase left. He's been under a lot of stress lately. And...Foreman ran the MRI, it was clean."

"Where is he now?"

"In his room, I guess – where else – "

"Not the patient, moron. Foreman." Cameron exhaled slowly, then snapped.

"So now I'm a moron? Because I walked in on you? I didn't do anything wrong."

"You're a moron because, after two years of working for me, you still think I care about our patient. And what I do with Chase is my business." At this, another

duckling went scarlet.

"Not at work it isn't."

"Cameron..."

"What?"

"You saw something you shouldn't have. Either shut up about it, or lose your job."

"I – you can't fire me for reporting – "

"Watch me." Before the discussion could go any further, Foreman walked in. He raised his eyebrows at the obvious tension in the room.

"Whoa. What happened here?"

"_Nothing_." House said with a pointed look at Cameron, adding, "Your playmates are fighting again. Chase, Cameron. Will you be good now?" Displaying a

surprising amount of acting talent, Chase shot House a look of perfectly balanced look of contempt, embarrassment and contriteness.

"Yes." he mumbled, which prompted Cameron to nod as well.

"Yeah." she agreed sullenly. Shrugging, Foreman decided not to care.

"Patient's hepatic enzymes are fine, MRI was clean. Anything in the history?"

"No." Chase said. "Except for the fact that he's stressed. Which we kind of suspected before."

Cameron glared.

"Yeah? Well, if you have such a keen understanding of our patients, how come you didn't ask him about pets?"

Chase was taken aback.

"I – did. He has rabbits. Right? It's irrelevant."

"Unless he has tularemia." Chase got ready to respond, but House jumped in before he could.

"Let me settle this. Chase: shut up. Cameron, didn't you _just_ promise to be civil?"

"Tell that to Chase."

"Yeah. Or I could send both of you to search the home. Because that way, I don't have to listen to your whining." None of his employees moved, so House

raised his eyebrows and gestured to the door. "Let's get going."

* * *

House spent the next couple of hours in his office, blissfully undisturbed. When his employees returned, House could hear them arguing before they had even

entered the room.

"If you hadn't interrupted me while I was checking the bathtub – "

"I didn't_ interrupt_ anything. I merely pointed out that I'd already looked at it." Cameron's voice was getting screechy now:

"Not very thoroughly, though, right?!"

"You have no proof it's Lemierre's!" At this point, House left his chair and joined his team in the adjoining room.

"Foreman, Cameron, go test for Lemierre's." he said curtly, and the two left, Cameron smirking. Chase sighed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Got any genius ideas?"

"For dealing with her? I wish. She was bitching the entire time. And you're an ass."

"Pardon?"

"You're an ass. You could have sent Foreman with her."

"Wouldn't have been as amusing." Chase glared, so House pulled him close.

"I'm sorry." Knowing these were rare words, his subordinate nodded in acceptance.

"I don't get what she's freaking out about."

"Seriously? It's obvious. Cameron thinks I'm awesome. Sure you can relate to that."

"I don't think you're _awesome_..." Chase was grinning as he said it, but House smacked him over the head anyways.

"You're getting much too cocky for your own good." he admonished mockingly, but Chase simply giggled.

"Hey!" House exclaimed suddenly, narrowing his eyes. The intensivist looked at him, unsure.

"Yes?"

"I have the solution." Chase swallowed. The gleeful glint in his employer's eyes scared him quite a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let Cameron find out so soon. I had a solution ready, but discarded that one as it didn't seem realistic. I hope this one will work...and I hope you guys are still reading, because I know I haven't updated for far too long. Exams are sucking me dry :/ Anyway, here's the new chapter. Akosiha, yes, she definitely does. Sorry I made you wait that long, Guest. And Pallada, she's still being bitchy. I'm so sorry I didn't update soon, or even soon(er). _

* * *

"Well?" Chase inquired, getting impatient.

"You'll put your acting talent to use."

"...which is nearly non-existent..."

"So is Cameron's skepticism. I think we'll be good."

"But – what do you even want me to tell her?"

"I want you to tell her I _made_ you kiss me."

"What the hell? I would _never_ kiss you just 'cause you said so."

"Sure you would. Me toying with you is as in-character as you letting me get away with it."

"No way." To House's surprise, his employee seemed truly angry.

"Relax. She already knows you're likely to - " the diagnostician stopped himself.

"I'm likely to do _what_?" Chase had gotten up and was staring at his boss, hurt, but at the same time furious.

"You're..." for once, House was at a loss for words. But the Australian had heard enough. As he swept out, his employer sighed. This was not going to be easy,

* * *

Half an hour later, Cameron and Foreman returned. When they spotted House in his office, toying with a rubber band, both of them entered the room.

"Patient's - " Foreman started to say, but House stopped him with a wave.

"Go find Chase first." he said. When Foreman started towards the office phone, he shot the rubber band at his neurologist's head. "I said _find him_." he

reminded sharply, which made both his employees leave, rolling their eyes in annoyance. House couldn't care less. He had tried paging Chase, and gotten no

response...but if he was needed for a differential, his wombat would be forced to come. And at the moment, that was enough.

* * *

It took another twenty minutes for Chase to be discovered – by Cameron, much to his chagrin.

"Are you here to yell at me again?" the intensivist asked, when his colleague appeared out of nowhere. He was sitting in a stairwell, looking rather abandoned.

Cameron almost felt sorry for him. Not quite – but she did manage to refrain from responding with excessive bitchiness.

"House wants you." she said simply, instead.

"And I want some peace and quiet." Now, Cameron felt herself getting mad again.

"Chase, we have a patient. Whatever drama you two have going on, if it keeps you from joining differentials, you don't have to worry about me telling Cuddy

anything. Because for that, _House _will fire you."

"Yeah, right. House doesn't give a damn about the patient. And he thinks my ideas are idiotic half the time anyways."

"Okay then. He may not care about the patient...right now - " Chase rolled his eyes - "...but nevertheless, he wants you there. You think ignoring him won't get

you fired? Think again." With that, the immunologist turned around and walked off briskly, deciding she'd done her job. Chase, meanwhile, bit his lip. Cameron

had a point. Ignoring House's instructions hadn't worked out well yet. Slowly, the intensivist got up and followed his colleague up the stairs.

In the department of diagnostic's House looked up at Cameron's arrival. Foreman was on her heels, having been paged by his colleague – and House, not

seeing Chase, admonished,

"What, you decided thirty minutes of your time would be enough?"

"_I found him_." Cameron hissed angrily, just as Chase walked in. His eyes flickered to House's for a fraction of a second before he turned away purposefully,

sitting down at the conference table.

"Glad you could join us, Dr. Chase." House said scathingly before demanding, "Test results?"

"C-reactive protein is elevated, and his platelet count is high." Foreman said, and Cameron chimed in,

"...consistent with Lemierre's." She shot Chase a look, and was rewarded with a glare from House.

"Yeah, Cameron." the diagnostician drawled, "We get it, you were right. You can gloat while starting the patient on metronidazole." His glare clearly

communicated she would not win any arguments right now, so Cameron nodded silently, before hurrying off. House was about to order Foreman out as well,

when it occurred to him that keeping Chase in the office again would probably lead to awkward questions. Because while they could be incredibly dense, the

ducklings _always_ noticed when he wasn't distributing his abuse evenly.

* * *

While he was pondering this, House noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Chase was getting up and heading towards the door.

"Hey!" House barked, "Where do you think you're going?" He would not let his wombat go hide again. Without a patient, blackmailing him to return would be

that much harder – and if Chase would just agree to listen, they could forget about this fight. Well. He'd have to agree, too. But he would. Right now, though,

he didn't look like inclined to agree to anything.

"I was gonna do some clinic hours..." the intensivist responded, taking care not to sound as irate as he felt.

"You're staying here."

"Why?" House rolled his eyes. Great. Now he'd have to think up some scenario in which he didn't allow his ducklings to do their clinic duty. Dammit, Chase.

"You're - " House's hesitation was brief enough to go unnoticed - "going to read up on Lemierre's. Both of you." he added with a glance at Foreman. He

expected whining and groans, and sure enough, heard both.

"You missed it as well!" Foreman accused indignantly. He looked like he was about to stomp his foot. House had regained his cool and smirked

condescendingly.

"Yep. And if I had a supervisor to make me, I'd be reading as well. But, being the big boss man..."

"Cuddy's the big boss."

"Careful. Or else you're not only reading, but taking notes, too." That shut both of them up. And while his underlings sat at the conference table, books in front

of them and seething quietly, House made his way to Wilson's office.

* * *

"If anyone asks, I made a bet with you." Wilson looked up from his papers.

"What about?" he asked.

"You bet me I wouldn't kiss Chase."

"Knowing what I know about you two? I must be quite an idiot."

"No argument here." The oncologist rolled his eyes.

"Funny. Why are we betting on whether you'll kiss Chase?"

"We aren't. It's a purely fictional bet. Try to stay with me, yeah?" Despite himself, Wilson smiled.

"Why are we fictionally betting on whether you'll kiss Chase?"

"Cameron saw us."

"What?! _Kissing_?"

"Yeah."

"But...she'll tell. What are you gonna do?"

"She won't tell. She likes her job."

"Yeah – and she's in love with you. House, this is serious."

"Which brings us back to the bet."

"What's the plan?"

"I want her to think I coerced Chase into kissing me. Because I made a bet with you."

"Hm."

"Eloquent as usual."

"Well. It could work."

So..."

"...if anyone asks...yeah."

* * *

After sitting in Wilson's office for half an hour, House got bored watching his friend work. He decided to get back to his minions. He had asked the oncologist to

page Foreman for a consult, so he would be out of the way – and sure enough, when the diagnostician walked into the conference room, his oldest employee

was glancing at his pager.

"It's Wilson." he explained at House's look. "Consult. Can I go, or do you want me to tell him I'm busy humouring his friend?"

"Less of the lip. You can go."


End file.
